


incurable

by heartofstanding



Category: 15th Century CE RPF
Genre: (Just a little bit), (loosely), Alternate Universe - Historical, Anal Sex, Birching, Erotic choking, Henry V is a high functioning disaster, Impact Play, Light BDSM, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Self-Esteem Issues, more modern than medieval times but still not modern day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:07:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29401701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartofstanding/pseuds/heartofstanding
Summary: Hal was naked and bent over the end of the bed. Courtenay let his eyes travel over his body and thought of the cold marble statues of Greece and Rome, the perfect form of a long, lean body carved out of stone. He held the birch rod lightly in his hand.
Relationships: Richard Courtenay (?-1415)/Henry V of England
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	incurable

**Author's Note:**

> I have a couple of people to thank/blame for this one. Firstly, shreds-and-patches for inadvertently giving me a hankering for Hal/Courtenay birching fic (we were talking about what sort of literature Eleanor Cobham would gravitate towards which led to me discovering Victorian erotica which led to birching). Secondly, MapleLantern for always enabling my desire to write kinky Hal/Courtenay fic (sadly, the "Hal freaks out about sex post-Shrewsbury" fic and the fisting fic are still in-progress). Thirdly, TheMalhamBird who said she'd read any smutfic I want to write.
> 
> This is set loosely in Victorian times and I did precisely zero research on the setting unless you count reading Victorian erotica. 
> 
> I also finished this wanting to write Hal domming Courtenay for a change so let me know if you want to read that. :D

Hal was naked and bent over the end of the bed. Richard let his eyes travel over Hal’s body and thought of the cold marble statues of Greece and Rome, the perfect form of a long, lean body carved out of stone. Hal’s feet were flat against the floor, his legs an extraordinary length, his thighs finely muscled and spread far enough apart that Richard could glimpse the dangling scrotum and penis. His eyes moved up to the pale, round buttocks. Then, the dip of Hal’s spine, the sharp lines of his shoulder blades, and his wrists bound behind his back, the long-fingered hands clenched into loose fists. It was winter and Hal’s skin was white, the summer’s tan long vanished.

Richard wanted to touch him. Anticipation burnt in his belly, his cock was half-hard. But he held the birch rod lightly in his hand as he stepped closer. He wanted Hal to feel the same keen expectation of what was to follow. He let the rod swing through the air fast enough that it was audible and saw Hal’s arse tense. He laughed, laid his hand on one cheek.

‘You remember your signals?’

He knew, though he could not see it, that Hal was rolling his eyes. He waited, slipped his hand between Hal’s thighs, took hold of his cock and balls and squeezed. Hal’s breath quickened, he squirmed. Once, Hal had protested that he never needed signals – _inferno_ if he could talk, a click of the fingers if he couldn’t – and had protested when Richard told him when he felt better knowing that Hal had them.

‘But you always give me what I need,’ Hal had said. ‘And you would stop if I needed you to.’

‘Even so,’ Richard had said.

Hal’s cock was growing hard in Richard’s hand. He said nothing and waited, stroking Hal’s cock slowly. Hal shook his head, groaned.

‘Yes,’ he said.

Richard let go of Hal’s cock, pushed his legs together.

‘How many?’

Richard stroked a hand down Hal’s back, pressed his fingers against his tailbone and, with his other hand, tapped the rod against Hal’s hip.

‘Oh,’ Hal said and Richard imagined his dark eyelashes fluttering. ‘I don’t know. I haven’t done anything.’

‘Haven’t you?’ Richard said and let his fingers slip down, a fraction towards Hal’s hole. Hal arched his back, groaning.

‘No?’

Richard smiled, bent his head to kiss Hal’s shoulder blade and then bit the skin he had just kissed, letting Hal feel the sharp, fleeting pressure of his teeth. Hal hissed out a breath. Ten strikes, Richard thought. It was a good number. He bit Hal again, licked a line across the bone of his shoulder, up his neck to his ear.

‘I want you to count,’ he said.

‘Yes,’ Hal said, dazed.

Richard straightened, running his hand down the line of Hal’s back. He waited for a minute, the clock ticking the seconds away. Hal shifted slightly on the bed, impatient, curious. His body tensed and then relaxed. Slowly, Richard raised his arm, brought the rod down with a crack.

Hal jumped and cried out, bound hands uselessly scrambling towards the line of pink blooming across his pale backside. He steadied himself with shaky breaths.

‘One,’ he said.

Richard ran his fingers over Hal’s arse, soothing the hurt, feeling the shape of the welt beginning to form.

‘Two?’ Hal said querulously.

Richard rolled his eyes and struck the top of Hal’s buttocks. Hal shouted and rocked away from the blow so Richard hit him beneath the curve of his arse. Hal shouted again and then settled, panting.

‘Jesus, fuck, three,’ Hal said. ‘Remind me not to ever piss you off.’

‘Does it hurt?’ Richard said.

‘Like fire,’ Hal said. ‘Don’t stop, Christ.’

Richard smiled. He didn’t put his weight behind the next blow, letting the tips of the birch whip into the fat of Hal’s arse, leaving behind marks like scratches. Hal grunted out the word _four,_ hands curling into fists, knuckles white. Richard waited until the hands relaxed and then brought down the birch again. Hal sobbed, his feet slipping on the floor. Richard ran a hand down Hal’s flank, felt it heave with the force of Hal’s breaths.

‘Five,’ Hal said.

Was ten too ambitious? They were half-way and Hal was sobbing. Richard cracked the rod down diagonally across Hal’s arse and Hal shouted. Richard waited.

‘Six?’ Hal said.

‘Yes,’ Richard said, bending to lick the curve of Hal’s ear, to take the lobe into his mouth and suck.

Hal’s breath stuttered, his fingers clawed against Richard’s belly. Richard pulled back, saw how Hal’s face was the same vivid pink as his welts. Richard kissed his shoulder.

‘You’re doing so well,’ he said. ‘You look so beautiful, Hal.’

He pressed his cock against Hal’s hot buttocks, let Hal feel his erection. When they were done, he would either fuck Hal or rut between his thighs and then come over Hal’s upturned arse. Hal wriggled, pushing back against him and Richard groaned.

‘More?’ Hal said.

‘Yes,’ Richard said, stroking Hal’s sides. ‘If you want to. You’re taking this very well.’

‘I want more,’ Hal said.

Richard stepped back, raised the rod and struck Hal, not waiting for Hal to count before hitting him again. This time, he waited for Hal to spit out _seven, eight_ before laying the ninth blow. He waited for Hal’s hissed _nine_ and waited again, hearing the clock move through a full minute, before he brought the rod down hard on Hal’s haunches. Hal cried out into the mattress, body jerking hard.

‘Ten,’ he gasped out.

Richard tossed the rod aside. Hal was sobbing openly. He raised his red face, tears streaming down his cheeks and snot smeared beneath his nose. His mouth opened and then shut, hiccupping. His eyes stared blindly around. Richard darted forward, untying Hal’s hands with a quick pull to the rope and taking Hal into his arms. He hid his face in Richard’s neck, wrapped his arms around Richard’s shoulders.

‘Oh God,’ Hal said. ‘I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.’

‘It’s alright,’ Richard said. ‘We’re done. You did so well – I’m proud of you. You took it magnificently.’

Hal’s cock was pressed against Richard’s hip. Richard could feel how hard it was, how it twitched at his words, precome oozing from the tip. Richard smiled, kissed the top of Hal’s head and cupped his prick, pulling at it gently. He liked how Hal, once broken down enough to listen, responded so readily to praise.

‘I love you,’ he told Hal.

Hal grunted, turned his head enough to the side that Richard could see one red-rimmed dark eye. He kissed the side of Hal’s brow, heard Hal snuffle against him. He pushed down Hal’s foreskin, rubbed his thumb against the piss slit. Hal groaned a little, teeth pressing against Richard’s collarbone.

‘I’ll spend,’ he said in warning.

‘Good,’ Richard said.

‘No,’ Hal said. He shifted his weight, knees digging into Richard’s thighs. ‘I want you to fuck me.’

Richard’s cock throbbed. He gave Hal’s prick one last rub and pushed him up onto the bed, positioning him on his hands and knees, a pillow beneath his hips in case he fell. Then Richard got out the oil. Hal looked over his shoulder at him, smirked a little. Richard shook his head, unable to keep the fond smile from his face. Hal’s arse did look magnificent – in some parts, it was a vivid, angry red but at some edges, the shape of the birch rod was discernible, its tips having left marks like scratches. Richard ran his hands over the hot, tender flesh and Hal hissed, head dropping down between his braced arms.

Richard kissed Hal’s back. He slicked his fingers with oil, slid them down Hal’s cleft and circled his hole. Hal’s back arched in answer and he groaned loudly when Richard pushed two fingers inside him.

‘Like that,’ Hal said, shoving his hips back and fucking himself on Richard’s fingers. ‘Richard, Richard, you need to—’

‘I know, I know,’ Richard said.

He fumbled with the bottle of oil, slicked his cock one-handed and then shifted up onto his knees. He thrust his fingers into Hal’s arse hard, heard Hal grunt, and then pulled them out, pressing his cock against Hal’s fluttering hole.

‘Please,’ Hal said. ‘I need this.’

‘Fuck.’

He added more oil, saw it sliding down Hal’s cleft, onto his perineum and then down onto his scrotum. In one thrust, Richard buried himself in Hal. Hal cried out – Richard could almost see his creased, red face – and Richard held still, his heart hammering in his chest, as he felt the unbearably hot, tight flesh gripping his cock.

Hal was making little whimpers, his breath hitching in his throat. Richard laid himself against Hal’s back, kissing the skin he could reach. Perhaps one day he would whip Hal’s shoulders before birching his arse. His hips jerked forward unconsciously, he pulled back slowly and thrust forward. Hal’s whimpers grew louder.

‘Hal,’ Richard said.

He reached around, grasped Hal’s cock, felt it leak over his fingers. He stroked it slowly, felt Hal shudder – against him, around him.

‘Please, please,’ Hal said. ‘You said you would.’

‘I am,’ Richard said.

He pulled back again, thrust forward. Hal skidded on the mattress, his mouth opening. Richard let go of his prick, held Hal to him with one hand firm on his hip, the other light on his neck. Hal swallowed and Richard felt his oesophagus move beneath his hand.

‘Oh God,’ Hal gritted out.

Richard squeezed gently – enough that Hal spasmed around his cock – and then let go, his fingers drifting towards Hal’s mouth, tracing the swollen lips. Hal’s tongue flicked out, touched Richard’s fingers and drew them into his mouth, suckling.

Richard thrust forward, fingers squeezing Hal’s hip hard. He heard – and felt – Hal’s muffled whimpers and groans. So he fucked Hal slowly until Hal was gasping, his tongue wet and lax against Richard’s fingers. Sweat streamed down Richard’s face, stung his eyes.

‘Oh fuck, fuck, fuck,’ Hal was saying. ‘I can’t, I can’t – don’t stop.’

The skin of Hal’s arse was hot against Richard’s thighs. He was sure it was hurting Hal; later, he would bathe Hal and put a salve on his welts. Now, however, he fucked Hal harder and let his hand fall to Hal’s throat again, squeezing lightly. Hal’s cry was gurgled. He tried to touch his cock but couldn’t manage it and collapsed onto the bed. He ground his hips against the pillow and then shoved his hand between his legs, masturbated.

Richard let go of Hal’s throat, took hold of his hips and drew him up enough to fuck him again. The angle was different – he could feel the shape of Hal’s welts and the burning heat of his arse against his thighs, and his cock was rubbing constantly against Hal’s prostate now. Hal babbled something – Richard wasn’t sure what, some mix of everything he had said before – and his body drew up tight, his arse spasming around Richard’s cock. Richard fucked him through his orgasm, and then pulled out to come over Hal’s pink arse.

He had the presence of mind to collapse on the bed beside Hal, not on top of him, and panted. Hal reached out a shaky hand, touched Richard’s face.

‘I love you,’ he said.

Richard smiled, nuzzled into Hal’s hand. His heart was slowing, his body cooling. He leant in and kissed Hal, drew him close.

‘I love you too,’ he said.

He touched his fingertips to the scar, saw how Hal’s face fell and pulled Hal on top of his body, kissing him thoroughly.

‘All of you,’ he said. ‘Every single part of you.’

‘Even the ugliest parts?’ Hal said.

‘Yes,’ Richard said.

The nights lost to insomnia, the tendency to wildness, the way Hal hated himself with such fervour. They were all hard to bear and they broke Richard’s heart again and again. But he could not help but love Hal more in spite of them.

‘My face—’

‘Is an acquired taste, I know,’ Richard said. ‘But I acquired the taste years ago and still have it.’

It was always easier for Hal to accept if Richard made it a joke. It was somehow harder for Hal to hear Richard say something like, _yes, the scar is bloody hideous but I prefer you alive and scarred then dead and mouldering_ and _yes, it’s quite bad but I saw you when the wound was raw, I saw Bradmore operating on you, and I prefer this indefinitely._

Hal’s eyes crinkled in a smile and he laughed.

‘You’re incurable,’ he said. ‘Absolutely incurable.’

Richard kissed him. ‘And?’

‘And nothing,’ Hal said.

‘Good,’ Richard said. ‘I’ll go run the bath.’


End file.
